


double axel your heart

by technorat



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Ice Skating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 01:16:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11703756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/technorat/pseuds/technorat
Summary: Kylo Ren has always been a huge fan of Hux, a two time Grand Prix gold medalist, and leaps at the chance of having Hux coach him.Hux turns out to different from what he expected.





	double axel your heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [purpleandorangesheep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleandorangesheep/gifts).



> based on these pieces of art :  
> http://sheepandpencils.tumblr.com/post/163181762920/figure-skating-au-in-which-kylo-ren-a-skater-with
> 
> repost from my tumblr :  
> http://gaygalaxyguy.tumblr.com/post/163762899492/written-for-sheepandpencils-based-on-these
> 
> thanks for reading !

“Ben, get your ass in here. Your boyfriend is on tv,” Han hollers from the living room.

Ben sighs, pulling his hair out from its hasty bun and dashing down the stairs. “Dad,” he hisses. “Hux is not my boyfriend.” He can feel his face get hot regardless.

Hux is on the screen, dressed in one of the many ‘uniforms’ his routines employ, two white bars sewn around his armsleeve. He performs a Biellmann spin, pulling his free leg up behind his head, a gloved hand holding onto the blade.

He’s always been so beautifully flexible, always looked so elegant while dancing by on the ice.

The audience claps politely for him—something Hux deserves.

“Look at you,” Han says, shaking his head, making Ben all too acutely aware of how hard he’s blushing. “Y’know, you’re an ice skater too now. Why don’t you just meet the guy?”

Ben sighs. “Hux is on a whole different level than me dad,” he whines. “You just don’t get ice skating.”

“Hey, when I was your age, I played hockey—“ Han starts.

Ben snatches the remote out of Han’s hand and turns off the tv, throwing it onto the coffee table with a vengeance.

“Jeez,” Han compalins. “Didn’t need to be so rough. Bet your boyfriend—“

Ben runs back up the stairs, ignoring everything else than Han says. It’s for the best.

*

*

*

That had been four years ago.

And now…

“Come on Ben,” Rey whines, leaning her elbows against the barrier. She stands outside the ice ring, her friends Finn and Poe with her, all three of them staring expectantly. “I told them all about your routines.”

“Okay, first off. That’s not my name. Secondly, they’re not my routines,” He cuts. “Luke choreographs them.”

Rey rolls her eyes. “What about your other routines? Like the Finalizer.” She gestures dramatically, cheeks puffed out.

Kylo sighs. “You know that’s not my routine. That’s Hux’s.”

“Yeah, well,” Rey says weakly, stumbling. “It’s not like he needs it.”

That’s true, Kylo knows, in a disheartening sort of way. Hux had retired from professional figure skating a year ago. And now no other figure skater could capture Kylo’s heart or attention in that same way.

Maybe that’s why he found himself practicing Hux’s routines every now and then, between regular practices and his own exhibition skates.

He’s nowhere in the competitive world. And it seems like there’s no point to it either.

With no one to look up to and hope to meet…

“The North Atlantic regional competition is coming up, right?” Poe asks, pushing back seemingly natural and frustratingly perfect windswept fair away from his face. He grins, warm and again horribly perfect. “Good luck.”

Finn looks at Poe oddly from the corner of his eye

Was that a well intentioned ‘good luck’ or a cruel one, all depending on if Poe knew that Kylo wasn’t actually in it.

Luke would never let him step into the competitive world. (Probably for Luke’s own sake. Brings up bad memories of Anakin.)

“Pleaseee Ben,” Rey says, clasping her hands together. “Just this once?”

Kylo rolls his eyes. “Call me Kylo,” he says.

“Please Kylo?” She tries.

He sighs and skates up to the barricade. “You’ll have to put on the song,” he tells Rey.

She’s delighted at this, delighted in the fact that she didn't disappoint her friends, at least.

Kylo skates to the center of the small rink, getting into position, one leg before the other, head turned to the side in a dramatic manner. Of course, it must not come across in the same easy, elegant manner as anything Hux did. But Kylo tries.

The music starts, slow and sweet, so Kylo begins to skate, slowly, curving into a gentle turn. The music picks up the pace, violins swelling to something powerful, violent, and so he follows the tune.

He jumps, spinning mid-air four times, sticks the landing and performs it once again, to some stunned clapping. Probably from the poor boys Rey’s brought home to her father’s ice rink.

He continues the routine, as the music grows faster and faster, more frantic and more fierce.

And then Kylo falls, right onto his side, breath knocked out of him.  
He shakes his head, pushing himself back up and continues, continues, continues, as if there is nothing that matters more in the world.

Kylo skates forwards as the music dies down, an arm stretched out above him. He stares off in the distance, wistful… like Hux always looked near the end of the piece.

And then it’s over.

Kylo’s face is overheated and probably an ugly, blotchy red. He catches his breath, lowering his hand, feeling foolish for staying in that pose for so long.

“Wow!” Rey says, holding up her phone… like she’s… like she’s fucking recording.

“What are you doing?” Kylo snarls, skating up to the edge of the rink. He snatches her phone from her and and looks.  

A video.

Of himself.

Skating Hux’s routine.

Kylo licks his lips, shakes his head. “No,” he says.

Rey takes the chance to snag her phone back, slipping it into her pocket. “Oh come on Ben,” she says, talking as if he’s the impossible one. “You know I record dad’s students and their routines for the YouTube channel.”

“Yeah, well, don't you tend to ask permission first?” Kylo says. He exits the ice rink, ignoring the fretful looks Finn and Poe send him. He looms over Rey, taller than her even without the extra height from the ice skates. He knows his size and uses it. To intimidate. “Take. Down. The. Video.”

“No!” Rey says, sweetly, reaching out and booping him across the nose. “Come on guys,” she says to her friends. “Let’s beat it before Ben starts a tantrum.”

“Bye,” Poe has the decency to say, fixing himself to look completely unfazed at the situation.

They leave the rink with no worries.

Kylo stays behind, just thinking of what could possibly happen.

*

“Hey,” Rey says, a few days later, giggling in just what has to be a guilty manner. “So, remember when I took a video of you skating to Hux’s routine and posted it on YouTube?”

“What about it?” Kylo says, picking at the cheese fries Rey had bought him.

(When she’d offered to get him lunch, he should have suspected something was up…

But he hadn’t, and now his stomach twists and turns, that greasy half-a-meal inside of it.)

“Just… don’t kill me.”

Rey hands him her phone, open to the video, though the video is paused.  
200,000 views.

In one night. “What the shit…” he mutters, shoving her phone right back. “Delete it.”

“But Ben!” Rey starts. “You never compete in anything, and like, that’s your decision and all, but, um… I thought you might be interested in knowing… in knowing—“

“Knowing what?” he snaps.

“Well, ah, just see for yourself,” Rey says, lips pressed into a fine line. She’s one of the few people who don’t get scared when Kylo gets mad.

She pulls up an email and hands it over.

Kylo drops the phone once he sees the sender.

Rey screams, seeing the screen crack, and smacks Kylo on the arm.

*

“So,” Luke says. “Not my student anymore, huh?”

“No, no,” Kylo says breathlessly, standing at the entrance to Luke’s ice rink. “Not sure about that just yet.”

Hux—two time Grand Prix gold medalist  _Hux_ —is coming to visit this dingie little place just because of a dumb YouTube video Rey had made.

Which sure made quite a buzz. At least with the few people that knew Hux would be visiting.

Luke had cleaned the whole place up, top to bottom, overworking his poor students. Even Kylo felt the burn in his arms from such excursion.

“Ben— no, sorry. Kylo. The is a good opportunity for you,” Luke says. He smiles, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. “You already look more at peace than ever… I know you’re shy—“

Kylo bats the hand away.

“But you have a lot of promise. He’ll see it too,” Luke says, so very sure and so very positive. “If he wants to coach you, then… go for it. I promise I won't be mad. I’m sorry... I... couldn’t bring you into the competitive world. That’s on me.”

Kylo looks at his uncle tiredly. Honestly, he hadn't thought of Luke’s feelings in any of this. Just… if freakin’  _Hux_  was interested in meeting him and, in his own posh, refined words, interested in appraising his skills.

“Listen, Uncle Luke,” Kylo says, pinching his nose. What if this was all some big mistake?

The door opens.

There, with light streaming through his short, perfectly parted hair, Hux stands.  
He… looks more than a little grumpy, with deep purple circles underneath his eyes. Must have had an unpleasant flight from England.

“Hey,” Kylo greets, so casually, as if he’s not ready to hop out of his skin at the sight of his childhood hero, the man that put him on the path of (sort of, kinda casual) skating. “I’m Kylo.” He stretches out a hand, offering to shake.

Hux scrunches his nose, looking down at Kylo’s hand like it’s something alien. Slowly, he takes the hand and shakes delicately. “Delighted to make your acquaintance,” Hux says, sounding anything but. “Excuse me, I thought it was Ben?”

“A-ah, that was my birth name. I go by Kylo. Kylo Ren. It’s... um sort of my stage name? But I go by it every day and ah—“

Hux holds up a hand, silencing Kylo. “Very well, Kylo,” he says cooly. “Care to create a repeat performance?”

*

Hux takes him out for dinner after. 

Which. Should be great and all, his figure skating hero and idol. In front of him? Wow. Using a fork and a knife to carefully cut pieces from his burger. Wow. But in a different sense. In a ‘ _did I really pick a good restaurant to bring Hux to? He’s Hux_ ’ way.

“How do you like the food?” Kylo asks, swallowing back a bite of his overstuffed hamburger and washing it down with soda.

Hux pauses, placing his utensils down gently and properly. And then he dabs at his mouth with a napkin. “Interesting choice of restaurant,” he remarks, looking at the portraits of animals dressed in formal clothing. “I… appreciated the many options. Not what I typically eat.”

Kylo rests his cheek against his fist, trying to not stare at Hux dreamily. (He probably fails.) “What do you normally eat?”

“Salads,” Hux says, stabbing his burger with particular relish. “Mostly salads. My coach thought it’d be best for me to stay…  _streamlined_.” His eyes pierces holes in Ren, roaming over the broadness of his shoulders.

Kylo lets out a laugh. A loud one, even in the busy restaurant. “So, should I start eating salads?”

“No,” Hux says carefully. “We’re not… going for a streamlined look for you. We’ll use your power.” He stabs a fry and eats it, forgoing the ketchup and other sauces. “We must, however, school your impatience and your lack of discipline. It leads to your unacceptably poor landings.” 

He says it so seriously, but Kylo can't hep the image that comes to mind. Hux, in one of his costumes, a leather crop in hand.

(Kylo didn’t really think he was into spanking… or pain… but  _Hux_. He’d be willing to try for Hux.)

“Well?” Hux says lifting one perfectly plucked brow. “What do you think?”  
It’s only then Kylo realizes how long he spaced out.

He has no idea what he’s agreed to.

“Very well,” Hux says evenly. “We’ll begin practice tomorrow morning. Be at your uncle’s ice rink at 7 sharp and be ready to skate.”

Kylo groans.

*

He’s used to waking up late. Skating. Going to his father’s mechanic shop and working for a few hours.

He’s not used to Hux’s intense version of practice.

Ordering him to skate this way or that way, do this trick or spin or jump or or or…

Is this how Hux trained? Kylo groans afterwards, pulling off his skates and massaging his feet.

Hux stands over him, terribly impassive. “You’ll get used to it soon enough,” he says, which is not really a comfort in Kylo’s mind. “And soon we’ll begin you routine for the North Atlantic qualifier.”

“I already have a routine we can use,” Kylo says.

“Scrapped,” Hux says. “I have a different one in mind.”

“So… you’re coordinating it?” Kylo asks.

“Yes,” Hux says calmly. “I suppose you weren't listening yesterday?” He snorts, not waiting for an answer. “I’ll demonstrate your piece tomorrow and we’ll have to do our best to be ready in time for October. I’ve already registered you for the competition and booked our hotel and train.”

“Wow…” Kylo manages, pulling his hair free from its bun, attempting to hide the reddening of his ears. “That’s impressive.”

An understatement, really.

Kylo is in awe.

Hux hums. “Then I suppose you’ll just have to live up to my expectations. If you do not pass the senior skating test, I’ll have to revoke my coaching.”

Kylo’s heart stops right there in his chest. “Revoke?” he repeats pitifully.

Hux hums again. “I expect great things from you, Ren. Do not disappoint me.”

And then he leaves the ice rink without even a goodbye.

That was not the graceful, perfect, poised Hux he had fallen in love with.

That was an asshole.

*

Hux puts on some classical music—which is… kinda something Kylo should have expected from Hux.

He flies around the ice rink, exuding power and grace, showing Kylo just what he expects. 

Afterwards, Hux slides into a finishing pose, stretching out his arm and looking wistfully outwards. His chest heaves slightly, face pinkened by the excursion.  

“Your turn,” Hux says, returning to his normal stony expression, back perfectly straight, and hair perfectly in place. Everything about him is so stubbornly  _perfect_.

But Kylo is nowhere near that level.

It’s why he was never able to convince Luke to even try to go to qualifying competitions. (That, or, Luke’s poor memories of his own skating career. Kylo doesn’t like thinking about it.)

“You sure about that?” Kylo asks, not wanting to disappoint.

Hux nods, folding his arms over his chest. He waits, not looking particularly patient.

“Don’t expect too much from me,” Kylo mutters.

Hux restarts the music and waits with an all too patient, all too serene expression.

Kylo follows through on the choreography. Mostly. Though it’s kind of a jerk move to expect so much from a first run through.

Then again it’s Hux.

A perfectionist. And a jerk.

“Good,” Hux says as Kylo copies Hux’s finishing move, probably looking less serene and more agitated. “You’ll get to your expected level with more practice and care. I’ve always noticed your difficulty in landings. We’ll work on those.”

He lists each problem and a possible solution, each sentence like a bullet.

This is not what Kylo had been expecting when Hux had made an offer to coach him. 

He doesn’t know what he should have expected instead. The person who made an appearance on the ice? Someone strict but with airs of tranquility and peace and determination, someone who had fire in his eyes.

Not this. Not someone who sounded like some military general giving orders.  
Hux leans closer, folding his arms over his chest. “Are you even listening?” he scoffs.

“Of course I am,” snaps Kylo.

Hux doesn't flinch back like many other people would have. Instead he snarls right back, just as mad and just as fierce. “Then do as I say,” he hisses, not even deeming to raise his voice at Kylo.

It’s gonna be a long day.

*

Hux is tough and unmoving in everything.

Every day of training, Kylo comes back home to aching legs and feet. But every day he improves, every day his jumps become less overpowering, less unstable. Even Hux admits so, grudgingly enough.

Every day, the qualifying competition comes a little closer.

He can almost taste the thrill of competition.

*

Until the day comes and he fucks it all up.

He fell twice—both times, his habit of putting too much power into his jumps coming through.

Kylo skates off the ice and steps onto solid ground, brushing past Hux and knocking into the slighter man. He pulls off both skates and chucks them, watches as they bounce off the ground.

He leaves the rink before it’s all over, never once saying a word to Hux.  
Why should he? Kylo’s failed the  _oh so great_  man and failed his high expectations. Hux wouldn’t remain his coach after Kylo’s lackluster performance.

Might as well head back to the hotel and stuff himself with snacks from the mini fridge. 

After all, it’ll all be on Hux’s bill.

*

“What the fuck was that?” Hux hisses, pushing open the hotel room door.

Kylo lies, belly down, on one of the beds watching some meaningless show on the television. He’s shoved the candy wrappers and empty bags of chips into the trash beforehand. Idly, he wonders how long it’ll take before Hux notices that too.

“What?” he says.

“You—“ Hux grits, jabbing a finger in Ren’s direction. “You humiliated me with your little tantrum.” He scoffs, shaking his head, pulling at his normally neat hair. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

“I fucked up,” Kylo says, swallowing back tears that come so easily. 

“Yes. You fucked up,” Hux says, snatching the remote from Kylo's hand, flipping the channel to another one.

There, on the tv, replays of the competition play.

Kylo Ren placed, just barely.

Oh.

“You see how ridiculous you were right?” Hux says, unable to stop a bark of laughter. "You could have at least had the sense to come back, to not throw your skates. Something.”

Kylo can’t find his words.

They show his little tantrum. And Hux worriedly following him before coming back and sitting alone. Alone when they announced who would advance past the regionals.

Hux shakes his head, suddenly looking so tired. “I’m going to take a shower and ignore all of your poor behavior for now. You better shape up, Ren. Don’t make me regret this any more.”

Kylo snorts.

That’s tough.

*

“We have a few months until the Eastern Sectional,” Hux instructs, tapping away at an oversized iPad. “But we can fit a performance between. It’d be good for you and your image, especially after the fiasco at the qualifier.” He looks up, eyes sharp. “Do not fail me again.”

Kylo rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, utterly disillusioned with his expectations of Hux. This man is just a grouchy one, one that can easily put on a different persona when he skates.

He’s not who Kylo thought he was.

But at least he was talented—at skating, at coaching, at arranging for transportation and places to stay. 

“We’ll modify the Silencer routine for your performance,” Hux says. “I’ve arranged it with the Today Show, as a personal favor.” He rolls his eyes, letting out a little puff of air. “Expect an interview beforehand. They’re very… chatty.”

“Didn’t you skate on that show?” Kylo asks. He vaguely remembers Hux looking uncomfortable as reporters asked about his (surely nonexistant) lovelife. Kylo remembers the tights he’d worn more. 

“Yes. Just once,” Hux says. “But they were all too willing to have my protege on the show, so please be on your best behavior.” His eyebrows draw close together, a crease forming between them.

Kylo snorts.

_Best behavior._

What Hux really means is to act like an entirely different person.

“I’ll do my best,” he says sourly, crossing his arms over his chest.

*

He does everything that Hux wants from him. 

Performs well enough in competitions. Smiles for interviewers and for (Hux’s former) fans. It’s all so cheesy, all so fake.

He probably should have declined Hux’s offer all those months ago.

But the US Championship looms ahead of him.

And he won’t back up now.

*

“I think we should drink,” Hux says, mildly enough, pulling an oversized bottle of vodka onto the table.

Kylo wrinkles his nose at it. “Ew,” he says. “Don’t you have anything good? Like margaritas. Or anything a little sweet.”

“Alcohol is alcohol,” Hux says, pulling the bottle close to his chest, overly defensive over the drink. “I’m sorry I didn’t offer you a menu, Mr Kylo Ren.”  
Kylo rolls his eyes. Hux is ridiculous. “So you wanna drink or what?”

Hux puts down the bottle in Kylo’s kitchen. Once again they're living with Luke, just until it’s time for more competitions, more shows, more of the ridiculous world of competitive skating.

(Maybe now Kylo understands why Luke hadn't really wanted this life for him. 

Why had he always blamed his poor, sweet uncle?)

Hux rummages around in the cabinets, finding shot glasses and pouring them quickly. He knocks one back before offering any for Kylo—as if spending time with him is that unpleasant.

But free alcohol is free alcohol. Hux paid, so might as well.

*

Somehow, they both end up on the floor, taking turns sipping from the bottle. At least until Kylo thinks he’ll hurl if he drinks any more.

Hux gets giggly as a drunk, cheeks and ears turning a pretty pink. 

“Why’dja buy us the vodka?” Kylo slurs, slumping over and leaning on Hux.  
“Dunno,” Hux says, shrugging his skinny shoulders, those sharp bits of him prodding Kylo’s side. “Thought you’d like it…” He breaks off in a cute little titter—one that Ben would have died to hear.

Kylo laughs. “Didn’t think you cared about me.”

Hux pouts. “Not fair,” he says, quickly turning from a giggling drunk to a weepy one.

Kylo pulls away from Hux, watches the man fall forwards. “Are you admitting you care? For me?" he says, unable to still his crooked grin.

Hux scowls up at him, looking from underneath his undone hair. “Of course I care,” he says. “I wouldn't be your coach if I didn’t.”

“But you always say you’re disappointed,” Kylo mutters, words slurring together.

Hux frowns, ducking his head. “I exp— I expec— I believe you can do great things,” he finally manages, the tips of his ears practically burning. “'m sorry if I'm too strict. That’s how I learned.”

“Who taught you to skate?” Kylo asks, hushed, like it’s all a great big secret, like they’re children.

“My father,” Hux admits, resting his head on Kylo, craning his neck to an uncomfortable looking degree. “But—“ he says, giggling, “—he thought I’d grow up to play hockey.”

“What? You?” Kylo says, thinking of how slim Hux is. The man might be tall and imposing, but hockey players were so much more… beefy. “Someone would snap you in half like a twig.”

Hux snorts, head lulling the other direction. “I’m grateful for your vote of confidence,” he says, still so very sarcastic. 

“But all those tricks… and chore— choreo— routines. Someone had to have come up with them, right?” Kylo murmurs, pulling Hux back to him. Hux’s head settles against Kylo’s shoulder, a solid and comforting weight.

Hux hums. “I did,” he says, a little proud. And he should be. 

His routines have always been impressive, even when he had debuted in the competitive world as a young boy.

“Wow,” Kylo can’t help but say, stretching out the word.

“Wow,” Hux copies him, mockingly. “You look like… like… I hung all the stars in the sky.”

An exceedingly romantic thought, coming from the mind of a drunk and rather unusually emotional man.

Kylo rests his head against Hux’s. “If you said you did, I’d sure believe you,” he manages.

*

He wakes up to the worst headache of his life, all tangled up with Hux on the kitchen floor.

“What happened?” Kylo groans.

Hux hushes him, not even opening his eyes. “Not so loud,” he hisses. “I’ve got a headache.”

Last night’s embarassing series of events make it back to Kylo’s mind. He flushes, pulling away from Hux, who’d never stopped clinging. He grabs a glass from a cabinet and puts it underneath the faucet, running cold water into it.  
Kylo drinks first, some water escaping his mouth and trickling down his neck onto his shirt. He wipes the rim of the cup, filling it once more, and scoots over to the medical cabinet, rummaging around.

Hux—in the meantime—as found his feet and wobbled over to a kitchen chair, looking as if he’s lost a week’s worth of sleep, all in one night.

Kylo puts the glass of water in front of him, along with two pills.

“Advil?” Hux says, picking up the tiny tablets. “It’s bad for your stomach.”

Kylo shrugs. “What? Do you want me to run out and buy you Tylenol?”

Hux smirks, the usual cruel fire sparking behind his eyes. “It’d be appreciated,” he says, all too sweetly, batting his nearly translucent lashes at Kylo.

Kylo’s face flushes. A victory for Hux.

*

They share more casual, friendly touches, the kind that come innocently, the ones that are shared between friends. Not that they’re friends. Not really.   
They’re just… times when they make contact. Nothing else.

There is no meaning when Hux lays a hand on Kylo’s shoulder as he explains something, an idea of his for the next practice run. 

No hidden agenda when Kylo grabs Hux’s arm and yanks him back, pointing at the red light.

Nothing unusual when they lace their fingers together, when their hands slot together perfectly.

So it doesn't really matter who kissed who first. It doesn't really matter that their kiss mattered at all.

(At least until they both manage to stop fooling themselves.)

*

“So,” Kylo says, grinning, standing on the ice. In just a few minutes, the World Figure Skating Championships would begin. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters, as long as Hux is there.

Hux quirks a brow. He stands just behind the entrance to the rink, an easy expression settling across his face. “What is it?”

“So, what do I gotta do to get you to marry me?” Kylo says.

Hux snorts. “Easy,” he says. “Bring me back gold.”


End file.
